


one step at a time

by nightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Coming Out, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 01:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8037748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: Jack wants to tell the whole world how much he loves Eric Bittle, but he's not quite ready for that yet.





	one step at a time

“I’m not ready,” Jacks says.

He feels like he’ll never be.

*

When Jack starts dating Bittle, he’s not as much of a mess as he used to be. But he’s a mess, still. He’s an addict. That doesn’t go away. He overdosed. He can’t pretend it didn’t happen.

Bittle knows. Everybody knows. It’s not a secret. They never made it into one.

His past won’t let him go, but he can’t let himself dwell on it. He has a future. And Bittle wants to be in it. Jack needs to go for full disclosure here. He needs to talk about this with Bittle, because he deserves the whole story. There will be days when he’ll need to know the whole story.

Jack has bad days. He’ll always have bad days. Abysmal days. It’s days he’s learned how to breathe through. He tries his hardest to be okay. He _always_ tries his hardest. Jack has to be better than he was before.

So he needs to put all cards on the table with Bittle. It’s a conversation they’ll need to have eventually.

But it’s not a conversation he can have over Skype one week after they kissed for the first time. They’ll get there, but Jack has to string those words together for himself first.

It feels like he fell into this head-first. It’s still so new, but there’s a familiarity about Bittle that makes things easier for Jack. It’s not like Bittle doesn’t know what he’s getting into. But that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t talk about it.

 _One step at a time_ , Jack tells himself.

*

Jack doesn’t understand his feelings for Bittle at first. They’re not feelings, per se. It’s not _obvious_. It sneaks up on him. He doesn’t notice that he starts looking at Bittle differently until one day he does.

It’s not a momentous occasion. He shuffles into the Haus’ kitchen on a Saturday morning and Bittle is already awake, making pancakes, and the morning sun is lighting up the kitchen. And Jack stands in the door for a while and watches him as he whips up the batter, humming along to the radio, and his hair is golden, and the half-smile on his face is the most beautiful thing Jack has ever seen.

He doesn’t know what to do with those thoughts so he ignores them. For a while.

Jack concentrates on hockey. He cares about hockey, he loves it, he’s good at it. But Bittle doesn’t let him go.

It doesn’t help that he’s around all the time. They live in the same house. Bittle sleeps across the hall. He’s constantly in the kitchen. They’re on the same team. They practice together, they play together. Sometimes Bittle smiles at him and Jack’s heart feels like it’s about to explode in his chest.

Then he catches himself thinking about kissing Bittle. It’s late and Jack has just finished his reading for the next day and he’s exhausted. Bittle is across the hall, listening to music, quietly, but Jack can hear a faint echo of it. Bittle's music has become part of the Haus’ background noises.

One second Jack is thinking about setting his alarm, then he’s thinking about breakfast, and Bittle, and Bittle’s smile, and then he thinks about kissing that smile. He thinks about what his lips would feel like. He thinks about Bittle’s arms sliding around his waist. He thinks about running his fingers through Bittle’s hair and pulling him close.

And then he thinks about what it would mean for him. For his life. For his career.

He can’t do it. He can’t breathe when he thinks about it.

Jack barely sleeps that night.

In the morning, he comes across Bittle in the kitchen. He hands Jack a cup of coffee and their fingers brush and something flutters in the pit of Jack’s stomach and he never wants to forget that feeling.

But he can’t let himself think about it.

He still does. His thoughts run wild. He tells himself that he’s not ready for it.

“You okay?” Bittle asks him a few days before graduation.

They’re in the kitchen. It’s morning. Once again, Bittle’s hair is golden in the sunlight. Jack has never wanted to reach out more than he does right now.

“I’m fine,” Jack says. He’s anxious, he’s scared, he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He looks at Bittle, with his big brown eyes and his bright smile. Jack wants to tell him that he has the most beautiful eyes, but he can’t. But he thinks maybe he can tell him the truth. A different truth. “I’m a little nervous. About… everything.”

It’s not just graduation. It’s not just moving to Providence. It’s not just playing for the Falconers. It’s his entire life. Things are going his way, but he’s terrified. And maybe it’s normal to be afraid of the future, but Jack isn’t sure if everyone’s afraid that one day it’ll be too much. That one day they’ll snap. That they’ll fall back into old habits. That they’ll ruin everything.

He knows that he’s overthinking things, but today he can’t stop himself.

And then Bittle says, “I bet you are,” and he hugs Jack and whispers, “It’ll be okay.”

And it’s just a thing people say, but when Bittle says it, part of Jack actually believes it. He wants to believe it so much. He wants to believe that he can be okay. He holds on to Bittle for a second too long and then he lets go and Bittle is still smiling, but he quickly turns away and shoves a mini pie at Jack.

“You know,” Bittle says, “we won’t be far away. If you ever… need moral support. We’ll all show up with our Jack Zimmermann jerseys and cheer you on.”

“Thanks, Bittle,” Jack says. He tries not to imagine Bittle wearing a Jack Zimmermann jersey.

He fails miserably.

*

Bittle is on Jack’s couch. In Jack’s jersey. Just the jersey, and his socks and underwear. Headphones in his ears, eyes closed, he looks so at home here. It’s only the second time he’s at Jack’s apartment in Providence and Jack wishes that Bittle could just stay here with him.

Jack allows himself to stare. The jersey has ridden up a bit, and Jack wants to kiss Bittle’s skin right there and smile when Bittle squirms and his breath hitches.

Seconds tick by, and then Bittle’s eyelids flutter and he’s smirking at Jack. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Jack says.

“Come here,” Bittle says, the headphones gone a moment later.

Jack does, sits down next to Bittle’s feet and pulls them into his lap. He wants to kiss him, wants to let his fingers slip under that jersey and slowly peel it off, wants to tickle Bittle’s skin and hear his breathless laughter.

But he has other plans.

“Bits,” Jack says, “there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

*

Jack smiles his way through graduation. On the inside, he’s shaking. When Bittle hugs him goodbye, Jack doesn’t want to let go, even though he knows that he has to.

He’s leaving. Bittle is going home to Georgia the same day.

Jack isn’t ready to go. He’s not ready to watch Bittle walk away from him.

When his dad tells him to say goodbye, to really say goodbye, Jack runs. He has no idea what he’s going to say, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Jack has thought about this, but it all seems ridiculous now.

It’s not fair to do this now, is it? To spring this on Bittle when they’re both leaving? Jack has too many other things to worry about right now. He has a career he needs to focus on. This is going to complicate things. And maybe Bittle doesn’t even– Or maybe he does. And how is this even going to work? Maybe they can work it out somehow. But what if they can’t? What if Jack messes it all up? Bittle doesn’t deserve that.

When he gets to the Haus, when he sprints up the stairs, he feels like he’ll never be able to catch his breath again. Who knows if he’s about to make the worst mistake of his life? Who knows if this will turn out to be the best thing he’s ever done?

When he kisses Bittle, all his thoughts stutter to a standstill.

 _One step at a time_. He has to remember that.

*

They keep in touch over the summer. They talk and talk and talk.

They skid around Jack’s past. He tells Bittle what he’s comfortable talking about. Bittle doesn’t ask him a single question he’s not ready to answer. Day after day they talk, day after day they piece each other together.

For now, they talk about the weather in Georgia, about Providence, about the new pie recipes that Bittle wants to try, about the truly horrible movie Jack watched the other day. After long days spent in search of suitable apartments, Jack looks forward to hearing Bittle’s voice in the evening. He can’t stop smiling when, one day, Bittle says, “Y’know, we could switch to Skype.”

Bittle’s face is blurry on his laptop screen, but Jack’s heart thumps away like he’s standing right in front of him.

Jack goes to Georgia for Independence Day and the flight down there nearly kills him. He calls his mom from the airport while he’s waiting at baggage claim to tell her that he’s made it. He could have just sent a text, but he wants to hear a familiar voice, he needs something to distract him from the excitement and the anxiety.

Bittle is there to pick him up and he squeezes Jack’s arm and Jack still feels like he has a whirlwind trapped inside of him, but Bittle takes the reigns and chatters away and all Jack has to do is to follow him around and smile and shake people’s hands.

The weekend at the Bittles’ goes by way too fast.

Afterwards, Jack misses Bittle even when they talk every single day. Well, they try to talk every single day. They both have other commitments and sometimes their schedules just don’t line up. On those days, Jack is scared that they won’t be able to make it work in the long run. It’s not going to get easier. There are going to be busier weeks. For both of them.

Those thoughts won’t leave him alone. But he forgets about them whenever he sees Bittle’s name light up the screen of his phone.

It gets a little easier when Bittle gets back to Samwell. At least they can see each other, face to face, even though they have to hide, even though Jack can’t wrap his arms around Bittle like he wants to, even though he can’t kiss him when there are other people around.

He knew from the start that it was going to be like this. He’s not sure why it surprises him how much he hates it.

*

Jack invites Bittle to Providence as often as he can.

Bittle’s first weekend at Jack’s is all hungry kisses, it’s Jack’s mouth on Bittle’s skin, it’s Bittle’s fingers peeling off Jack’s clothes. It’s soft smiles and Bittle’s arms and legs wrapped around him, it’s Bittle cooking in his kitchen, it’s Jack’s nose buried in Bittle’s hair and Bittle’s breath, quick and unsteady, tickling his skin.

Even when Bittle is gone, his laughter echoes in Jack’s mind. It wasn’t a weekend for the things Jack needs to say. He was so happy, and Bittle was too, and Jack couldn’t talk himself into bringing it up.

He promises himself, a few days before Bittle comes to Providence the second time, that he’ll do it this time. He’ll tell Bittle that he wants to talk. He knows that he has no reason to be nervous, because Bittle is just as good as listening as he is at talking, and Bittle won’t judge him, he won’t hate him, he won’t walk out the door and never come back.

But Jack has spent way too much time imagining it.

When he sits down next to Bittle, who’s in Jack’s jersey, his legs bare, and pulls Bittle’s feet into his lap, Jack’s heart is ready to beat its way out of his ribcage. When he says, “Bits, there’s something I want to talk to you about,” he wants to run away.

“Yeah?” Bittle says and scoots closer. His feet slide off Jack’s lap, but he still has his legs slung over Jack’s. “Something wrong?”

“No,” Jack quickly says. He’s going about this all wrong. “Not with… us.”

Bittle frowns. “Okay?”

Still doing it wrong. Jack rubs his eyes. He doesn’t know how to say this. He knew five minutes ago, but it’s all gone now. He takes Bittle’s hand and rubs his thumb over his palm and Bittle twines their fingers together and maybe this is going to be okay.

“Can I start over?” Jack asks.

Bittle nods.

“I want to talk to you about what happened. To me. Before we met. About what I did.”

Bittle’s eyes go wider, just by a fraction.

“I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

“Jack… you don’t have to–”

“I do have to. You deserve to know. You probably already do. But we’re… you’re… Bits, you’re important to me. And it wouldn’t be fair to keep things from you.”

“I mean, I sort of do know.” Bittle’s cheeks go red, like he’s embarrassed that he knows what everybody else who’s at least a little bit interested in hockey knows as well. “I know what happened.”

“I figured,” Jack says. It makes things easier for him, because he can leave out that part. The part about the hospital, and rehab, and the mess he made. “There were a lot of things I didn’t know how to deal with back then. And I’m better now, but the anxiety… it’s not gone. It won’t go away. And sometimes I… There are bad days. For me. And I’m really bad at talking about this.” He rubs his neck and glances at Bittle, who’s very, very quiet. “I should have said this earlier.”

“No,” Bittle says, “Jack, it’s fine.” He clambers into Jack’s lap and wraps his arms around him. “I’m glad you told me, but don’t ever feel like you have to do things before you’re ready for them, okay?”

“Okay,” Jack whispers.

“And when it gets bad…” Bittle’s fingers trail down his neck. “Is there anything I can do?”

Jack pulls him closer. Bittle can’t miraculously fix it all, that’s not how it works, but he’s still here, and he doesn’t hate him, and he didn’t walk out on him, and knowing that is good enough for Jack. “You’re already doing it.”

Bittle hums. “But if there’s anything else…”

“I’ll let you know.”

“I insist, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Well, if you _insist_ ,” Jack says and he takes a deep breath and gives Bittle a kiss. That wasn’t so hard. Of course it wasn’t. He sighs an, “I’m sorry,” into the crook of Bittle’s neck.

“About what?”

“About… not talking about this until now.” About being the way he is. “About a lot of things.”

“Jack,” Bittle says. He nudges Jack. “Look at me for a sec?”

Jack does and Bittle’s eyes are so gentle and Jack knows that he’s in love with this boy, but it still takes him by surprise.

“I’m proud of you,” Bittle says.

*

When Jack can’t sleep at night and Bittle is in Providence, he stays awake with him, and mumbles to him, and kisses him, and Jack thinks that he must have done _some_ things right in his life because he managed to end up here.

*

Jack isn’t sure how they’re still getting away with this.

He drove up to Samwell to watch a game and afterwards he was dragged back to the Haus by the team to celebrate with them. It’s not the first time it happened. And there wasn’t much dragging involved.

He’s up in Bittle’s room now. It’s the beginning of December and snow is falling outside and Bittle’s bed is ninety percent blankets. And Bittle has Jack pinned against his mattress and there’s no place in the world Jack would rather be right now, but there’s a party raging downstairs and people are going to wonder where the hell they are.

It’s the same thing every time.

And Jack hates the face that Bittle makes when he tells him that they should head back downstairs, so he’s giving them five more minutes.

He sits up and tugs at the hem of Bittle’s shirt. That’s all he does. Just a playful tug. If the shirt goes, there’s no way that they are going anywhere any time soon.

But they have to be careful. Jack can’t slip up like that. One of these days, Jack is going to tell Shitty about Bittle. To be honest, he wants to tell the whole world about Bittle, but he knows that not everyone will be as happy for him as his parents were when he told them that, yes, he has a boyfriend and, yes, it’s Bittle, and, yes, he’s very happy with him and, yes, of course he’ll bring him to Montreal soon.

He’s scared of telling people.

He’s scared that someday soon Bittle is going to figure out that he could have all of this with someone else, that it could be easier, that there wouldn’t be as much hiding and lying and worrying if he was with somebody else.

“You are merciless,” Bittle mumbles into his ear and then kisses down his neck and if one of them is merciless it’s most definitely Bittle.

Jack flips Bittle over so he’s under him, a sheepish smile on his face. He feels a bit like he’s floating when he sees Bittle look at him like that. He loves looking at Bittle in general. Unless he’s making _that face_. The one he makes when Jack tells him that it’s time to go.

But their five minutes aren’t up just yet and when he has Bittle underneath him like this, Jack can’t just go.

“What?” Bittle asks.

Maybe Jack has overdone it a bit with the staring. “Nothing, it’s just… you have beautiful eyes.”

Bittle’s face goes bright red. “Oh, come on.”

“I mean it,” Jack says. “You’re beautiful.”

“ _Jack_.”

“It’s true.” He kisses the tip of Bittle’s nose. “You are.”

Bittle’s fingers curl around the back of his neck, keeping him in place. “The things I want to do to you right now…” His legs wrap around Jack and he pulls him down and, yeah, Jack is definitely not the merciless one here.

“Bitty,” Jack says and it comes out as a gasp.

“Sorry,” Bittle says, but he doesn’t sound like he’s actually sorry.

Jack can’t blame him. He can’t blame him for the kiss that follows either. If he could spend the rest of the evening glued to Bittle without being afraid that someone might find out what they’re up to, he wouldn’t move an inch.

“You know, sweetheart,” Bittle says, his lips brushing against Jack’s skin, “you could stay. Shitty’s stayed before. No one cared.”

“I can’t,” Jack says.

“I thought it couldn’t hurt to mention it.”

“I’m–”

“Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” Bittle says. He makes a face. It’s not _that face_ , but it’s close enough. “I shouldn’t have asked. I knew you’d say no. I miss you, ’s all.”

“I know what that feels like,” Jack says. He flops down next to Bittle, an arm wrapped around him.

Those five minutes are over. Jack doesn’t move.

“You could come by during the week,” Jack mutters. He closes his eyes. It’s been a long day and he’s exhausted. He should leave soon. “Maybe on–”

“Tuesday, yeah,” Bittle finishes for him. So he’s already thought about it. “I could.”

“You should. And you’re still coming by next weekend, right?”

“Oh my, I hope you won’t get sick of me if you have me hanging around your apartment twice in the same week.”

“I don’t think that’s actually possible.”

Bittle laughs quietly. He drags his fingers through Jack’s hair for a minute or two and Jack feels himself drifting. He’s comfortable and warm and the party downstairs seems a million miles away.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Bittle says. Because he knows that Jack can’t stay and he accepts it, just like that, and Jack is so lucky to have him.

And he wants to say that, exactly that, but what tumbles out of his mouth instead is, “I love you.”

“I… honey,” Bittle says and kisses him, hard, his fingers twined into Jack’s hair. “I love you, too.”

Jack gives them another five minutes.

Because he needs to kiss Bittle for a little while longer, and look at his flushed cheeks, and wonder how saying that seemed like the easiest thing in the world. He didn’t think about it at all, it was simply there on the tip of his tongue all of a sudden.

“It’s not always going to be like this, Bits,” Jack says between kisses. “The hiding, it’s not forever, I swear.”

“Take your time,” Bittle says.

*

“And what about _your_ love life, Jack?”

It’s an innocent enough question, especially because a bunch of his teammates have just talked about how understanding and supportive their girlfriends are. Still, Jack despises interviewers who ask him about his relationship status.

He always gives them the same answer. He puts on a pleasant smile and says, “There’s nothing to tell, I’m afraid.”

When he gets home, Jack will have to apologize to Bittle. Again.

*

For their first Christmas together, Bittle hands him a huge box full of cookies together with his present. It’s not actually their first Christmas _together_. Jack is going to Montreal; Bittle is headed for Georgia.

Jack drops him off at the airport and steals a kiss in the car before he goes back to his apartment to pack. In his apartment, he finds post-it notes from Bittle stuck to his furniture. They’re _everywhere_. Even though Bittle was only in Providence for two days, Jack’s apartment seems strangely empty. Quiet.

There’s a pie on the counter, also with a post-it note stuck to it. Jack has no idea when Bittle had time to bake it or how he put it on the counter without him noticing.

They talk in the evening because they’ll barely have time for more than a few texts here and there. Jack is going to Canada tomorrow and they’re both having dinner with their parents on Christmas Eve, and although Jack is sure that his parents wouldn’t mind if he disappeared for a quick Skype call on Christmas, Bittle probably won’t be able to get away from his family for even just a second.

Which is why he’s a little confused when his phone starts ringing right when he’s about to sit down and have dinner with his family on Christmas Eve. Jack glances at the screen and sees Bittle’s name and his first instinct is to answer it immediately, but his parents are both looking at him with badly concealed curiosity and they were just about to have dinner and he doesn’t want to be rude.

Jack’s dad nods at the door. _Dinner can wait for a few minutes_ , that nod says.

Jack ducks into the hallway. “Bittle?”

“Jack…” Bittle breathes out his name. His voice is shaky. “Everything’s fine, but… do you have a minute? Or even two?”

“Bits, what happened?” Jack’s brain somehow skips the _everything’s fine_ because Bittle sounds like he’s crying and he’s sniffling and part of Jack is already trying to figure out how quickly he can get down to Georgia.

“I’m fine, Jack, everything’s fine, it’s just, I told my mama. About you.”

Jack doesn’t know what to say. They’ve talked about this, but two days ago Bittle was sitting between his legs on the couch and said he wasn’t sure if he should. “You did?” Jack asks.

“Well, you were texting me and my mama, you know what she’s like, she asked me if I was seeing anyone, because my phone just wouldn’t shut up, and I said, ‘Well, maybe I am’, and then I said, ‘It’s Jack who’s texting me.’ And she didn’t really catch on and asked, ‘Well, are you going to tell me who you’re seeing?’” Bittle giggles on the other end of the line. “And I said, ‘It’s Jack, Mama.’ And she just looked at me and for a second I thought…” He sniffles. “Anyway, she hugged me and I cried a bit, actually, I’m still not done with that as you can hear.”

“Bits, I–”

“I thought I couldn’t do it. But then I just… I just said it. And she’s gonna help me tell Coach. Not today, though. Not tomorrow. I’m not actively trying to ruin Christmas, but… Sorry, you were gonna say something.”

Jack smiles down at his feet. His parents are uncharacteristically quiet in the dining room. They’re probably listening, but Jack really doesn’t care. “I love you,” he says, and, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Stop it, you’re making me cry even more. And I really need to stop crying because Coach is gonna get home in twenty-seven minutes and I need to not be crying when he does.”

“Sorry,” Jack says. “Do you want me to tell you how my dad nearly killed Christmas dinner today?”

His dad clears his throat loudly in the dining room.

“Actually, I might have to tell you something else, otherwise he’s gonna make sure that there won’t be any food left for me when I–”

“Am I keeping you from dinner? Jack, you should have said.”

Jack laughs. “It’s fine. I’m glad you called.”

Bittle lets out a puff of breath. “Go have dinner. And call me later if you have time?”

“I will,” Jack says. “Bye, Bits.”

“Bye, Jack.”

He gives himself a couple of seconds. Eyes still on his feet, he wipes at his cheeks.

*

Jack takes his time in the bathroom. He tries to concentrate on his breathing, because his thoughts try to be everywhere at once and he can’t focus on a single thing.

They’re in Montreal, visiting Jack’s parents, and Bittle is sitting on Jack’s bed, in Jack’s old bedroom, fiddling with his phone. Jack remembers Kent sitting on that bed. Jack remembers feeling lost.

He caught Bittle flicking through one of his dad’s hockey magazines earlier, lingering on an interview Jack did a couple of months ago. Jack has no idea why his parents don’t throw them out.

“Because they’re proud of you,” Bittle said when Jack uttered that thought.

Jack remembers that interview that Bittle was reading. It’s the one he did with the team, the one where the interviewer asked about their significant others. He remembers coming home that day, after the interview, he remembers calling Bittle and saying, “I lied about you again today. I’m sorry.”

He remembers Bittle saying, “Don’t worry about it, honey.”

And Jack remembers, very distinctly, that he said, “Not much longer, Bitty.”

Not much longer.

It sounded like a promise to him and it must have sounded like a promise to Bittle. Even though Bittle doesn’t push him, lets him deal with this at his own pace, Jack wonders for how much longer they can do this. Slowly but surely it’s wearing them out.

Even though their parents know, even though their closest friends know, even though his team knows, Jack can’t hold Bittle’s hand when they’re out for a walk, he can’t take him to nice restaurants, or at least not nearly as often as he wants to, he can’t kiss him on the steps in front of his apartment building. As soon as he steps out the door, he can’t be himself.

Once he’s ready to go public with this, George will be there to help him. The Falconers have a PR team; they know what they’re doing. Bittle will be there. Jack won’t be alone in it.

But there’s a knot in his chest and every time Jack even so much as thinks about it, he suddenly feels like he can’t breathe deeply anymore.

Bittle found him two weeks ago, standing in the kitchen, gripping the counter. It was all too much that day. Bittle wrapped his arms around him from behind and told him to breathe. Jack did. But ever since that day, Jack feels like he’s been lying to Bittle somehow.

He takes a deep breath as he walks across the hall to his bedroom. _One step at a time_. Jack is going back to his room and he’s going to curl up next to Bittle and kiss him and then he’s going to go to sleep. He can do all that.

Bittle is nothing more than a lump under the covers that stirs when the door clicks shut. The top of Bittle’s head appears, blond hair sticking up, the rest of his face following quickly.

“There you are,” Bittle says and lifts up the covers so Jack can slip into bed with him.

A moment later they’re both all wrapped up, Bittle’s cold fingertips skimming over Jack’s skin. “Bitty,” Jack says. He sneaks a kiss on Bittle’s cheek as Bittle tucks himself against him.

Bittle hums into Jack’s shirt. “Love you.”

“I love you, too.” Jack breathes in, and out, and in, and out. “Bittle.”

Bittle looks up. “Huh?”

“I’m not ready,” Jacks says.

He feels like he’ll never be.

“To go public,” Jack adds before Bittle can reply. “I need some more time.”

Bittle’s eyes go wide for a moment as he breathes out a quiet _oh_ , then his features go soft. “That’s all right, sweetheart.”

“Is it really?”

“I told you to take your time. Am I… pushing you? Jack, I’d never, I swear. Don’t feel like you have to do this because of me. It’s your life, so you’re doing this when you are ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?”

“Never is a bit…” Bittle trails off. He brushes Jack’s hair out of his forehead. “How about we talk about this again in a couple of weeks? Or months? And then we’ll see how you feel about it?”

Bittle is good at the _one step at a time_ business. And it’s probably not even intentional. “Sounds good.”

“Good,” Bittle says.

Jack turns off the bedside lamp and pulls Bittle back against his chest.

“And… Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Hypothetically… even if you’re never ready, I’m still not going anywhere.”

Falling asleep isn’t so hard that night.

*

Jack _knows_ when he wakes up next to Bittle for the first time.

He knows that he’ll never want to wake up next to anyone else ever again.

*

The truth is, Jack will never be ready to come out publicly. He can’t be. He knows that once it’s out there, he has no control over what people are going to say. And he needs to accept that. There are things he can’t change.

It’s going to change his life. It’s going to change Bittle’s life.

And it scares the crap out of him. But it’s time now.

Not because he _feels_ ready, but because he’s decided that he is. This isn’t going to feel any different tomorrow, or a week from now, a month from now, a year from now. It’ll always be terrifying.

So he decides that it’s time.

It’s Sunday morning, 5:30, and usually he’d get up and go for a run, but Bittle is in his bed and last night Jack promised him that they’d sleep in, both of them, and even though Jack doesn’t exactly excel at sleeping in, he’ll at least do Bittle a favor and stay in bed with him.

Well, he slips out of bed to go to the bathroom, but Bittle will never know. He’s still fast asleep when Jack crawls back under the covers. Jack reads for a while, then he puts his book down to watch the rise and fall of Bittle’s chest instead and tries not to think about anything at all. It works for a while.

Sunlight creeps across the floor, cars drive by outside, and Bittle shifts and starts snoring.

Jack wants to close his eyes again, but he knows that he’ll start thinking about everything and nothing in particular when he does, so he marvels at the way Bittle’s eyelashes curl and smiles when Bittle wrinkles his nose and turns over, reaching out, his hand finding Jack’s on the mattress.

Bittle mumbles something unintelligible and Jack trails his thumb across the back of his hand.

It’s nearly 7:30 when Bittle cracks an eye open, sees that Jack is awake and scoots closer to him, draping himself over Jack, probably to keep him from escaping. Not that Jack was planning on going anywhere. He actually likes the thought of staying in bed with Bittle all day. They could order food and talk and maybe he could get Bittle out of that shirt.

“’m going back to sleep,” Bittle mutters.

The thing is, Jack isn’t very good at doing nothing and while Bittle is still asleep, _nothing_ is exactly what he’s doing. Jack wraps his arms around Bittle. He’ll manage for a little while longer.

There was a time in Jack’s life when he wasn’t sure if he could ever be as happy as he is right now. There was a time when he was scared of being this happy. On some days, he still can’t believe that he gets to have this. That he gets to wake up next to Bittle, that he gets to lie in bed with Bittle wrapped around him, that he gets to kiss the top of Bittle’s head. He’s so grateful for this. And it’s not just luck. It was a lot of work, a lot of talking, a lot of missing Bittle when they couldn’t see each other, it was a lot of lying to people, a lot of being scared.

But it’s worth it. It’s worth it if he gets to have this. He wants this and he wants to have this outside of his apartment. He doesn’t want to analyze his every move anymore. He wants to be able to kiss Bittle whenever the hell he feels like it. The people who matter already know and maybe he shouldn’t care so much about the rest of the world. That’s easier said than done, though.

At 8:30, Jack grabs his phone and pulls up George’s number. She’s waiting for this phone call. He’s talked to her about it before, many times, about what they’re going to do, how they’re going to handle this.

He talked to Bittle about it two weeks ago and back then he said he wasn’t sure. Not yet. And Bittle said, “Well, let’s talk about it again in a month, okay?”

And Jack nodded because he thought he should be sure about it.

He is now. He’s not ready, but he’s _sure_.

Jack gently eases Bittle off of him and makes sure he’s still tucked in. When he moves to get out of bed, Bittle catches him by the hem of his shirt. “Where’re you goin’?”

“I gotta call George.”

“We were sleeping in, Jack.”

“It’s half past eight, Bitty.”

“Exactly. Why are you making phone calls at half past eight on a Sunday morning when we’re sleeping in?”

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“Well, I hope so. I’d say I’ll come get you if you don’t come back, but I’m sleeping in. Like we said we would.”

Jack drops a kiss on Bittle’s forehead and says, “Love you.”

Bittle sighs and pulls at the sheets, wrapping himself up. On a whim, Jack snaps a picture of him. He knows it’ll be one of those he’ll look at when he’s on the road.

It’s when he’s almost out the door that Bittle says, “Jack…”

“Yeah?”

Bittle sits up, still bundled in the sheets. “Seriously, _why_ are you calling George at half past eight on a Sunday?”

“Because,” Jack says and he hopes that Bittle understands.

“Ah,” Bittle says. Just that, nothing else. There’s a soft smile on his face when he says, “Go on, I’ll be right here when you come back.”

Jack’s fingers barely shake when he presses the _call_ button.

*

When Jack sees Eric Bittle for the first time, he knows that he’s going to change things.

He just doesn’t know that it’ll be his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write something from Jack's POV and I somehow ended up with this angstfest.
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated :)


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